


Let's Stay Together

by BionicallyIronic



Series: The Importance of Pop Culture Awareness [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: All The Tropes, Amnesia, F/M, Her Royal Highness Pepper Potts, Hulk out with your Bulk out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-19 16:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3616518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BionicallyIronic/pseuds/BionicallyIronic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If asked to choose who in the Tower would be most likely to fall prey to a bout of amnesia, most people would pick Bucky Barnes. </p><p>Most people would be wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Since accepting her promotion to PR Liaison for the Avengers and moving into Bucky’s suite in the Tower, Darcy had a new morning routine, and it was – in her eyes – damn near amazing.

Her alarm first went off at six, and was, as she and Bucky had taken to calling it, the If You Want Nookie, Now’s the Time to Get It Alarm. Some mornings it just led to some Grade A cuddling with her spysassin boyfriend. Some mornings it led to orgasms. Both were pretty damn good.

A second alarm went off at seven, and that’s when Darcy absolutely had to be out of bed if she didn’t want to be late, and considering her office was next to Pepper’s, Darcy never wanted to be late. Then it was commute-by-elevator up to the floor beneath the penthouse, where Pepper and a few select staff worked. Darcy had a view that killed, an assistant of her very own, and her own top of the line, Tony Stark “improved” coffee maker. Darcy couldn’t believe this was her job, that this was her life.

It was perfect, till it wasn’t.

~*~

Darcy was in one of the back corners of the labs, going over a new press itinerary with Tony and Bruce, when the klaxons went off. The guys were coming off a three-day science bender - dark circles ringing their eyes and fairly grumpy due to lack of food - and when the high-pitched wail rang through the labs, followed by the hissing of the sliding doors sealing shut, both Tony and Darcy turned warily to Bruce.

The lights that accompanied the sirens splashed everything with an orangey glow, but even so, it was easy to see the green tinge to the skin around Bruce’s eyes. His teeth ground together, his eyes scrunched shut. Darcy knew that a Hulk out would only happen under certain circumstances, but she was willing to bet that lack of sleep and food, flashing lights, and loud noises would check off a few boxes on that list.

Tony slowly moved to put himself between Bruce and Darcy. For a split second, her feminist ideals were wounded - because she could totally take care of herself – but she quickly realized standing toe to toe with the Hulk was definitely not how she wanted to spend her Tuesday morning.

“Jarvis,” Tony said, “what’s the situation? And can we cut the world’s worst car alarm?”

The noise went down considerably, though not completely, as Jarvis muted the klaxons in their lab. The muffled sirens coming through the walls made it clear everyone else was hearing the world’s worst car alarm at full blast. But it was quiet enough that they could hear Bruce’s ragged, rapid breaths. The need to zen the fuck out practically radiated off of him in waves.

“Apologies, Sir,” Jarvis said, “but I cannot turn off the klaxons completely. A scientist in the adjacent lab has accidentally released an airborne toxin and-”

A snuffling grunt cut the AI off, and Darcy peeked around Tony’s shoulder to check on Bruce. A mossy green color was flowing over his skin like water. Darcy swallowed hard and tried to force air into her lungs. Could the Hulk smell fear? Because right now, she probably reeked of it like she had gone skinny dipping in Fear Lake.

“Tony, my man,” Darcy said, her words tumbling out of her in a hurried whisper, “if you’ve got a plan, I’d love to hear it.”

“Ah, well-” They both jumped back at a particularly violent roll of Bruce’s shoulder, the muscles expanding and joints popping. “My plan would be to get you out of here before the Jolly Green Giant notices you. Me, he knows. You, not so much. And that’s a problem.”

“Really?” Darcy asked. “That’s all you got?”

“I think the timing of your critique is not the best, Short Stack.” He raised his voice just enough to be noticed, but not enough to startle the big green rage monster. “Jarvis! Tell me Mark 63 is locked in with us.”

“Sir, I’m afraid Dum-E moved it over to the painting station this morning, per your request.”

Dum-E raised its prongs into the air and gave a jaunty little wave.

“Even when he’s right, he’s wrong, the poor bastard,” Tony said with a sigh.

The Hulk uncurled from the stool Bruce had been perched upon. He stretched his tree-trunk arms, each one ending in a fist the size of a ham, and his gaze darted around the room, pausing briefly on Tony before landing on Darcy. A roar that put the alarms to shame spilled from his mouth, and a strangled laugh bubbled out of Darcy. The Hulk’s breath smelled faintly of the green tea Bruce had sipped as Darcy went over their paperwork.

Arms extended to make himself a bigger target, Tony stepped forward. “Hey, big guy! It’s Tony! We do the science! I check your calculus!”

Angry puffs of air flared from the Hulk's nostrils, like a bull about to charge. His gaze flicked from Tony to Darcy, and every time his eyes strayed to her, his fists clenched.

“Sir, I’m happy to inform you that the emergency air circulation system is filtering out the toxin in the adjacent lab as quickly as is possible,” Jarvis said. “Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes are waiting in the hall for the all clear before entering to assist, and Thor is in the elevator on his way up.”

“And uh, how long till the toxin’s gone?” Darcy asked. She edged further away from the Hulk. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much more ‘away’ left. One shuffling step backward had her bumping into a lab table.

“Two minutes, thirteen seconds,” Jarvis said.

Two minutes, thirteen seconds, Darcy thought. That was totally doable. She’d even count it down, that would help her get through this.

Except…

At two minutes, the Hulk loosed another of those eardrum-shattering roars. Equipment and beakers vibrated on the shelving around the room, and it rattled Darcy all the way down to her toes.

At one minute forty-five, he flipped the table separating him and the non-Hulked out humans in the room. Glass vials glittered in the air before crashing to the ground, and papers fluttered like a deranged, scientific ticker tape parade.

At one minute thirty-five, Tony closed the space between him and the Hulk, arms waving wildly and talking a mile a minute as he tried to get through to Bruce.

At one minute thirty-two, Hulk swept Tony aside. Tony slammed into the storage cabinets lining the walls, going limp as a rag doll.

And at one minute twenty-eight, the Hulk locked on to her, and Darcy stopped counting. And maybe stopped breathing. Just for a second.

_Just a little longer, just a little longer._

Darcy prided herself on not freezing under pressure. She’d tased Thor. She’d knocked a mugger out. _In heels._ She had stared down reporters from CNN and Fox News and told them ‘No comment’ when they looked like they’d happily gut her just to get their story. But this wasn’t just an attacker or an asshole reporter. This was _Bruce_. Bruce who made the best grilled cheeses, and was the easiest Avenger to work with, and liked to do yoga with her. She would not freak out.

She was going to _own_ this situation.

Hulk lumbered toward her, teeth still bared, feet bleeding green goo from walking on crushed glass. His eyes flicked from her face to her hands and back again, and though the look should have felt predatory, it didn’t. More like he was running a threat assessment. “Hey,” she said softly. She caught his gaze with her own and held it, watching as the deep furrows between his brows slowly smoothed out. “We’re okay, big guy. We are going to get through this, and you are totally taking me out for ice cream, and – hey, look at that!”

The orange lights cut without notice, each bulb receding into the ceiling, and the world seemed less colorful without them. The sirens, though muted in their lab, finally stopped blaring in the surrounding rooms. For the first time since the alarms first went off, Darcy felt like she could breathe.

Then door to the lab opened and Bucky barreled through, all black gear and silver knives and everything about him screaming threat.

Hulk roared, the noise so great it filled every part of Darcy from the tips of her fingers to the ends of her hair to the soles of her feet. She wished that she and Bucky could do the thing Clint and Natasha did where they had entire conversations with blinks and lip twitches. And while she and Bucky were pretty damn close to inseparable, the silent conversation was not something they had mastered. So Darcy had absolutely no way to tell Bucky to back off because she had things under control. Instead, the last thing she was able to say before things went to hell was a simple, “Fuck.”

In what might have been an attempt to protect her from this new threat, Hulk shoved Darcy behind him. Problem was, there was very little distinction between a Hulk shove and a Hulk smash. Darcy flew across the room. Her skull hit the wall with a dull thunk, her shoulders crashing into it seconds later. She had a few bleary seconds of seeing a blue and blonde blob and a black blob as they took down and sedated the Hulk. Then everything went dark.

~*~

A soft beeping woke Darcy.

Before she even opened her eyes, she knew she was in a hospital room. Darcy had only even been in the hospital twice – once when she was in Kindergarten and her fever spiked over 105 and again to get her tonsils removed when she was ten – but all hospitals had the same tells. It was the chemical-y antiseptic smell, it was the scratchy waffle-weave of the blanket draped over her, and the way the people in the hall spoke quietly but efficiently.

She cracked her eyes open and realized three things. One, she was totally right and was in fact lying in a hospital bed. Two, it seemed to be a ridiculously nice hospital, with a huge TV mounted to the wall and plush armchairs arranged around her bed for visitors. And three, one of those chairs was occupied.

“You stole my iPod, once upon a time,” she said. The voice that came out of her didn’t sound like her own; it cracked and creaked as though long disused.

“Jeez, Darce, are we still talking about that?”

“Dude, ‘Darce?’ A liiiiiittle too familiar there, Mr. Jackbooted Thug, don't you think? Oh god, wait. You guys probably have a huge file on me, right? Like my SAT scores and how many people I slept with in college – and one of those was a pity lay and I’d take it back if I could – and like, the fact that my bank account has seven dollars in it and you’ve been reading it, haven’t you?!”

By this time, the grizzled but ridiculously cut Man in Black from Puente Antigo had gotten out of the chair he’d been sprawled in and came to stand by her bed. “Darcy,” he said. His calm voice didn’t match the worried furrow between his brows at all. “What year is it?”

What year was it? No one every asked anyone that unless they had a traumatic head injury or something. And last she remembered, she’d been helping with the –

“Shit!” She tried to get out of the bed but immediately became tangled in the wires taped to her chest and temples. “The Dark Elves! What happened? Is Jane okay? Is Erik? Aw, shit, I totally my-life-is-flashing-before-my-eyes kissed Ian! Let’s just tell him I’m still passed out, ‘kay? How did I get hurt? Fuck. _Fuck_!”

“Darcy!” Cut and SHEILD-y took hold of her shoulders and gently pressed her back to the bed. “Stay here. I’m going to go get your doctor and Jane and Bucky, okay?”

She waited until the door clicked shut, then tore the sticky monitoring pads from her skin. The heart monitor began to wail, but she had a terrible gnawing at the pit of her stomach about what was going on. Why wouldn’t iPod Thief tell her what happened with the dark elves? Who was he bringing to look at her?

Her legs were loose and wobbly, but the window wasn’t that far. They couldn’t have failed in stopping the dark elves, because the world still existed, but clearly something bad had gone down. Heavy drapes blocked the window, and Darcy grabbed a handful of fabric and wrenched it aside.

The skyline sparkling in the afternoon sun was not the dreary one she had become used to these last few months. This was skyscrapers crowded up on each other in a way that bordered on claustrophobic, all of them tall, tall, tall. She couldn’t see the Thames. She couldn’t see the buildings that seemed to breathe history, the ones that were older than the country she’d been born in. Then unmistakable deco lines of the Chrysler building caught her eye. She was in _New York_?

The door slammed against the wall, and Darcy whirled around, nearly losing her footing. She clutched at the drapes, partially for balance, partially to kind of hide behind. But it was Jane, and she barreled across the room to sweep Darcy up in a huge hug. Darcy clung to her like she was a life preserver.

“Oh my god, Darcy! We were freaking out!” The words were tumbling out of Jane almost too fast to comprehend, but Darcy was fluent in all forms of Jane-ese and was able to keep up. Usually. “Tony is fine, couple of broken ribs but he’ll live, and Bruce is so, so sorry. And Bucky will be up in just a second, he’d gone to go get coffee, but you should have seen him Darce, I thought he was about to pop a gasket when they told us we couldn’t see you till you woke up and-”

Darcy felt like the contents of her mind had been upended and tossed to the ground, and Jane was adding to the chaos. “Wait, Jane, just hold up for a sec-”

“Do you want Bucky?” Jane asked. “I’d probably want Thor, too, you know? For one of those giant superhero hugs?”

“Jane!” There were too many questions to ask, and she didn’t know where to start, so she asked all of them. “Just…what’s going on? What happened with the Dark Elves? Is everyone okay? We’re in New York somehow? And who the hell is Bucky?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, this took a detour to Angst Town, but I promise we'll be back on the Crack Track soon.

The very nice neurologist with the lilting accent and sleek black ponytail shone a tiny penlight into Darcy’s eyes for what felt like the billionth time. She patiently let the doctor blind her, again, willing to sit through her poking and prodding as it was far preferable to the MRI machine she’d spent over an hour in.

“Well, my dear,” Dr. Palla said, “this looks like a classic case of post-traumatic retrograde amnesia. When you hit your head, there was an interruption in the short to long-term memory transfer mechanism in-” she lightly tapped Darcy’s temple “-here. Based on what you told me you remember from before waking in the hospital, it seems you’ve reset to one of the biggest events in your life, which was the invasion in London.”

“You gettin’ all this, Janey?” Darcy asked, a tiny snort of laughter escaping her. “You know, in case I forget.”

Jane pulled her tattered thumbnail from between her teeth. Once everyone figured out that Darcy’s head injury was worse than they’d originally thought, the doctors wanted to keep her visitors to only those she would have known in 2013. Which meant Bucky couldn’t come into Darcy’s room. Which meant Bucky was flipping the fuck out.

Well, Jane was flipping the fuck out, too, so she supposed that was a reasonable reaction.

Jane cleared her throat. “You’re taking this really well, Darce. But, I want you to know it’s okay if you need to cry or talk, alright?”

“Dude,” Darcy said. “What better place to go coo coo for Cocoa Puffs-” she waggled her pointer fingers at her head “-than in Tony Stark’s tower! Dr. Palla works with friggin’ superheroes! She probably sees head injuries every day! Still kind of pissed that I lost a couple of days between the Dark Elves and landing here, but no big. Oh! Did I meet Tony Stark? Did I meet Captain Dorito?!” She grabbed Jane by her shirt and pulled her closer. “Did I meet her Royal Highness Pepper Potts?”

Jane was fairly certain the odds of laughing or crying were 50/50.

Dr. Palla turned back to her patient. “Darcy, feel free to get dressed. Dr. Foster brought you clothes. I’m going to process your release paperwork, but I want you to take things easy for the next few days. If you feel dizzy or nauseous or out of sorts at all, I want you to call me immediately, understood? Dr. Foster and I are going to go discuss your aftercare and we’ll get you when everything’s taken care of.”

Darcy slid off the table carefully, clutching her thin paper gown to prevent a wardrobe malfunction. “You got it, doc.”

~*~

Bucky had watched the surveillance footage of the incident about fifty times. Each time he did, he waffled on his decisions, his strategy. One viewing made him think he shoulda waited, because Darcy had the Hulk damn near hypnotized and could have gotten out of there without intervention. The next caught a twitch near Hulk’s eye and the slow drawing back of his arm, as though to strike. He did this over and over until Steve finally took the Starkpad away with a quiet, “Can’t change the past, Buck.”

The moment Jane and Dr. Palla stepped into the hall, Bucky, Steve, and Pepper rushed them, making the already crowded hall seem even more packed. Bucky was the first to say something. “Doc, how long do you think this will last? Is there anything we can do?”

The doctor flipped through the pages in Darcy’s file. “We saw nothing to worry about in her scan, so that’s good. Usually, in cases like this, it’s simply a matter of waiting it out. However, the time lost is often relative to the recovery time. Seeing as she’s lost several years’ worth of memories, it could be a while before she remembers everything. Best case scenario? Her memories come back in a few days. Worst case? Weeks, possibly months of things coming back piecemeal, with no real way to predict what she’ll remember or when, or even that she’ll remember everything.

“Now, she seems to think it’s 2013, and for the moment, neither Dr. Foster nor I have said anything to contradict that. You could go on pretending like this is true, and slowly integrate her into life in the Tower and hope that eventually something jogs her memory. That said, I recommend telling her what happened. However, you know her better than I do, and have a better guess as to how she might handle her situation and which option might be best for her. I’m going to go process her paperwork, but please contact me if you need any help.”

The group parted to let the doctor pass, and there was a brief moment of silence and worried gazes darting about.

“We gotta tell her,” Bucky said, “I mean, if we tell her she’ll remember, right?” Hope quivered through his voice like a thread pulled taut, about to snap. It had been thirteen hours since the Hulk out in the labs, and Bucky had been worrying over Darcy’s unconscious body for most of it. And now, she was awake and mostly fine, but he still couldn’t see her. All he wanted was to hold her and know she was still here.

“I don’t know, Bucky,” Steve said slowly. “You remember how hard it was when we tried to tell you all about the old days, back when you first got here? When we expected you to be someone you felt like you weren’t? I don’t like lying, but I think there might be some merit to pretending it’s 2013 for a little longer.” The crumpled expression on Steve’s face said he knew he was delivering information no one in that hallway wanted to hear, and the grimace on Bucky’s said he knew Steve was right.

“So we,” Bucky stuttered and stopped, staring up at the lights set into the ceiling. “We pretend like it’s 2013 and she doesn’t know any of us and we start over?”

“James,” Pepper said, “I promise you she’ll have the best care. Dr. Palla has agreed to stay in one of the guest residences for the foreseeable future, so she’ll be on hand twenty-four hours a day. And I told her to just let me know who else she thinks can help us and I will get them here in twelve hours or less.”

Bucky nodded, but couldn’t find it in himself to say anything in response. Saying something meant acknowledging that something was wrong, and he wasn’t ready to do that yet.

“Okay then,” Jane said. “Darcy managed to convince herself we moved here right after the Dark Elves attacked and that she fell down while moving into the Tower, so that’s what we’ll go with.”

Though no one said anything, it seemed explicit that they wanted Bucky’s agreement, so he answered with a quiet, “Yeah.”

A heavy silence settled over everyone in the hall, until the door to the examination room opened up.

“Jane!” Darcy poked her head around the doorframe, juggling the clothes in her hands and trying to keep her paper gown closed. Unwanted images of Darcy lying in a crumpled heap, the Hulk between them, flashed in Bucky’s mind. She’d looked so small and Banner so huge. Bucky’d never felt more helpless in his life. All he wanted to do was cross the three feet separating them now and wrap his arms around her.

“I could kiss you for the comfy sweats but you totally forgot underweaaaaawwfuck.” A rush of pink filled her cheeks and crept down her throat when she saw Jane wasn’t alone. For the first time since he’d known her, Bucky had the pleasure of seeing Darcy shocked speechless. Her gaze flicked from Jane to Pepper to Steve to Bucky, the blush intensifying when she saw guys in the hallway.

“Jane!” She waved the scientist over, and, though she tried to keep her voice down, it was still possible for the super soldiers to hear what she said next. “I know you’re a member of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee and you rock it, but I need a _bra_ , for Frigga’s sake! And-”

Without even thinking, Bucky said, “I’ll go get one.”

Then his brain caught up to his mouth and he realized what he’d done.

No one said a word. Pepper buried her face in her hands. Jane’s eyes had gone as big as saucers, and Steve had his trained on the ceiling, as though he were wondering how easy it would be to pull a Clint and hide up there. Darcy was emitting a strangled choking sound, her eyes wide. And then the brows came down, her lips pursed, and the clothes Jane brought for her fell to the ground as she brought her fists to her hips.

“Hey man, just because you’re smokin’ hot, that does not mean you get to touch my unmentionables without my permission. Gross, dude! Why would you even think that would be okay?!”

Bucky’s lungs had stopped working. And maybe his brain, too. What could he say? What would make sense and also play into the story that it was still 2013? And what could he possibly say that wouldn’t make him sound like a pervert?

He took in a gulp of air and met Darcy’s gaze. Her bare feet were set shoulder-width apart and she looked ready to take him down if necessary. A Valkyrie in a paper gown.

He caved.

“I thought it would be okay because it’s not 2013, it’s 2018 and I’m your live-in boyfriend.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 99% certain that the rating is going to jump up with the next chapter.

Silence. It was almost as if everyone in the building had cleared out, knowing a World War might start up at any second. Darcy hadn’t taken her eyes off Bucky since his outburst, his reckless overthrowing of the white lie they’d all agreed would be best for Darcy’s recovery. Bucky fully expected for Darcy to let loose a verbal onslaught that would rival Steve’s Ma, but it never came.

“Jane,” Darcy said, leaning in close to her friend even though the whole bra exchange had proven pretty much everyone could hear whatever she was about to whisper, “I think I hit my head again.”

“You didn’t hit your head again, Darce.”

Then I think I need to sit down.” She began to sink toward the floor, and Pepper hooked her ankle around one of the chairs lining the hall and slid it underneath Darcy with a move so practiced, it was clear she’d used it on Tony a time or two.

“Why don’t we move this conversation somewhere more private?” Pepper suggested. I’ll let Dr. Palla know we’re removing you from the hospital wing, and take care of the paperwork. I’m sure the boys can help you get to the ele-” Pepper stopped short when she saw Darcy surreptitiously shake her head “Or a wheelchair. Wheelchairs are great. Be right back.”

The whole time, Darcy stared at Bucky.

Stared at the black fatigues he still hadn’t changed out of from earlier.

Stared at the knives in their holsters at his hips and thighs.

Stared at the nervous bob of his Adam’s apple.

Stared at him as he stared right back.

He half expected tumbleweed to blow through the hallway.

A man in scrubs guided a wheelchair down the hallway, stopping it and applying the brakes once he had it lined up with Darcy’s chair. He tried to help Darcy into the chair, but she slapped his hands away and got into it herself, motioning for Jane to steer. Not quite knowing what else to do, Steve and Bucky followed them to the elevator banks. As they stood awkwardly by, watching the doors close, Darcy stuck her leg out, forcing the doors to open.

“You two dorks coming or what?” she asked.

“I, uh,” Bucky ran a hand through his hair, “thought you might want some alone time?”

She narrowed her eyes, and didn’t move as the elevator doors tried to close on her foot again. “Have you ever seen me naked?”

“Ahh…” He had, of course. Too many times to count.

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, dude. You say we’re dating, so prove it. Tell me where my birthmark is.”

The small café au lait mark sat just under her left breast, and he was not only very familiar with it, but had also once given her a hickey in the same spot under her right breast, for symmetry.

The elevator doors tried to close on her leg once more, but Darcy wasn’t budging.

Bucky ran his hand down his face and muttered, “Christ, doll, you’re killin’ me.” He tapped his own chest below his left pec, gaze drifting off as he did, like he was embarrassed at revealing one of her secrets in front of the others.

Darcy’s gaze flitted over Bucky in a new way - wary and appraising and satisfied all at once – and then gave him the smallest smile. “Well, then. Hop aboard, boys.”

~*~

Darcy sat on the couch she and Bucky had picked out when they moved in together, after she had determined his wasn’t good for two-person-at-a-time napping. Her chunky knit blanket (the one she cuddled under on rainy days, though she wouldn’t know that now) was tucked around her folded legs. In her lap was a Starkpad loaded with five years’ worth of photos.

They’d taken turns telling her what had happened in the labs, and when she insisted, they showed her the surveillance footage. She’d watched the incident three times, jumping when she first saw herself flung halfway across the room. After, she'd asked for photos, any documentation of the life she’d forgotten. She’d been scrolling through them ever since.

Bucky and Jane sat at the table in the kitchen, drinking beer and pretending to help Steve clean up the quick midnight dinner they’d put together, but really just giving Darcy some space.

“How do you think she’s doing?” Bucky asked in a whisper. His leg jiggled against the table, making it vibrate slightly.

“Dunno,” Jane said, daring a glance over her shoulder. “She’s been looking at those pictures a while. This is…I mean this…” She took a long pull on her beer. “This isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened, you know? She survived an attack from the _Hulk_ with a few scratches. It’s not like when we saw Thor die or the Ether made me a space time bomb, but it’s worse somehow, just because there’s nothing we can _do_. That’s what’s killing me right now. The not being able to do anything.”

Bucky finished off his beer. “You got that right.”

They sat together in silence, listening to Steve putter around the kitchen, until Darcy cleared her throat. “Hey, Jane…?”

Jane stood so fast her chair tottered in place and Bucky had to reach out to steady it. He got up and grabbed a towel off the counter so he could dry the dishes as Steve washed them.

“I’m sorry I said we should lie to her,” Steve said, passing a glass to Bucky.

Bucky glanced up at the two women on the couch. Jane was talking while Darcy stared down at the Starkpad in her lap. The light put a soft glow on her face that only emphasized how tired she seemed.

“You had your reasons.”

Steve put a dripping plate in Bucky’s hands. “Still. You doing okay?”

The plate, some forks, and another cup passed under Bucky’s hands before he answered. “I feel like I can’t be upset. She’s alive, she’s got minimal injuries – hell, even Stark came out worse than she did – but she doesn’t remember me, and it’s like someone stuck a knife in my heart and wants me to keep on living like nothing’s wrong.”

“Hey,” Steve said, voice low and quiet, “we’ll get her back.”

Bucky nodded, not having the heart to voice his doubts in the face of Steve’s eternal optimism.

They were doing the awkward ‘pretend to look busy’ thing when Jane joined them in the kitchen.

“She wants to talk to you, Bucky,” she said.

~*~

He walked toward her like she was a bomb he needed to disarm.

She’d seen him in the surveillance video - the way he’d fought like he was dancing, blades flashing though she’d never seen him reach for them. And she’d seen him in the hallway, nervous tension coiled within him, waiting to explode. This was different. This was slow, tentative steps, purposeful placement of hands and arms so as to seem harmless. This was fear, personified.

Fear of what, though? Of losing the girl in the pictures? The one who looked at him adoringly and was very obviously adored in return? Or was he scared of the girl in front of him, the one who couldn’t remember him?

He sank down on the couch, turned sideways with one leg tucked up underneath him so he could face her. His fingers twisted through his hair in what she assumed was a nervous tick. Stubble covered his chin and jaw, though Darcy wasn’t quite sure if it was due to the late hour or just his taste. He was undeniably, ridiculously good-looking, but that had never been a main qualifier in a partner for her, so what was it about him that she had fallen for?

“Jane said you wanted to talk?”

She stared at him for a moment, her brain whirring with all of the information Jane had given her. Finally, wanting to feel his name on her lips, she said, “James Buchanan Barnes.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “That’d be me.”

“I used to draw hearts around your photos in my history textbooks,” she said, unsure what prompted the confession.

He laughed then, a small thing barely more than a huff of air. “You told me that on our first date.”

“Other Me can’t keep her mouth shut, apparently.”

“Well, you kinda just told me yourself, doll.”

“Touché.” And then he was looking up at her through his lashes, every bit the pretty boy charmer her doodled-in textbooks had made him out to be. A smile spread over her lips before she knew it. “Thanks, by the way. For being honest. For not treating me like I’m something breakable.”

“Doll, you are anything but breakable.” The plates on his metal hand shifted and stilled as he played with the yarn tassels on her blanket, but those higher up were constantly shifting. She wanted to ask how he’d gotten the prosthetic, and to touch it, to feel the shifting metal, to find out if his body warmed the plates or if they would be cool under her fingers. Before she could change her mind, her fingers darted out, grazing the plates on his forearm.

He stilled, shoulders tightening for just a second before relaxing again. And then he sighed, and his whole body seemed to sink further into the cushions. Almost, as if he'd missed her touch. For whatever reason, seeing him let go released something inside her, though she couldn’t say what.

She propped her elbow on the back of the couch and leaned her head against her arm. “How long have we been together?”

“’Bout eight months.” Something like pride – it was in the way his eyes shone and his chin tipped up when he smiled – settled over his face. Like he was just so damned happy about their relationship. She wanted to feel creeped out by having someone she didn’t know being so overly familiar about her, but instead, something warm and happy settled in her belly.

“Did I go after you or did you go after me?” Her eyes were drooping and she had to stifle a yawn, but she was getting excited now, and wanted to learn more.

She hadn’t counted on Bucky being extremely observant.

“That is a complicated story and you look like you’re about to pass out. Why don’t we pick this up after you’ve had some sleep?”

“Aww, come on, I was knocked out most of the day,” she said with a sly grin. Wrong answer. He cocked an eyebrow at her and she knew she wasn’t getting any more out of him tonight. “Alright, fine. But you have to promise to tell me tomorrow.”

He took her hand in his own and squeezed it gently. Something in her stomach fluttered happily. “It’s a date,” he said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The below references events that took place in Domo Arigato and One Way or Another. Also - pure cheese. Tropes on tropes on tropes.

There was a knock at the door.

“James?” Darcy called. “Can you get that?”

She’d felt weird sleeping in the bed she and James shared, burrowed beneath blankets that smelled of her perfume and leather and something spicy her brain catalogued as ‘James.’ But her only other options were the couch, or the spare room in Jane and Thor’s suite, and of the memories she still had were those of the thunder god snoring up a storm (pun totally intended). So she had taken the bed, and James had politely declined her offer of sharing and had camped out on the sofa.

During breakfast, Bruce and Tony had come by to check on her; the former huddled in on himself and barely able to do more than apologize, the latter trying to do more than his broken ribs would allow as if to prove his invincibility. Other visitors had trickled in throughout the day, wanting to see how she was doing and answering questions to fill in the gaps in her memories. And if she had a fangirl moment when Pepper came down with a tasteful arrangement of tulips and fancy chocolates (that looked as though they had actually been imported from Belgium, and holy shit were they delicious), well, who could blame her, really?

Darcy had hardly had time to talk to James. She wanted to know _everything_ their relationship, but first he’d insisted that she know his history. So – with Steve there to moderate so James wouldn’t be too hard on himself – he told her about the Winter Soldier, and answered all of her questions. It was a lot to process, but he’d been free from Hydra’s programming for nearly two years, and she knew that not only did a version of herself trust him, but so did everyone else in this tower. When she didn’t freak out, his shoulders had visibly slumped in relief.

But right now, she was late in meeting him downstairs, for their date. Well, maybe it wasn’t a _real_ date, but they had plans to go get dinner and then he was going to fill her in on their relationship. Even though she wasn't thinking of it as a _date_ date, she was as giddy as a girl who’d just been asked to prom by the quarterback.

Whoever was at the door knocked again, and she zipped up her jeans and pulled a henley out of the dresser, tugging it over her head as she called out again. “James, did you hear the door?”

 _Duh, Darce, of course he didn’t_ , _or he would have gotten it, wouldn’t he?_

She ran out to the living room, finding her flats where she’d taken them off by the couch last night, and hurried to the entry. “Sorry! Sorry! I was-”

She flung the door open and saw James standing there, an absolutely panty-dropping grin on his face and a huge bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Oh my god, you are the biggest nerd!” However, said nerdiness did not keep her from taking the flowers – moon-pale roses, frilly irises, and clusters of tiger lilies – and bringing them closer for a sniff. They were heavenly

“I dunno, doll,” James drawled, “I’ve heard you debate with Stark about the importance of Ewoks.”

Her big blue eyes grew even bigger. “I did?! Who won? Me? Please say it was me.”

James laughed. “You both called it a draw after you convinced Jarvis to play the Yub Nub song any time Tony entered the room and he got Jarvis to restrict your ability to use any coffee machine on the premises.”

“Nice play, Stark, nice play.” She beckoned James into the apartment, and began to hunt for a vase.

“Cabinet over the ‘fridge,” James said. Sure enough, when Darcy pulled over the step stool and opened up the cabinet, there they were, including the cut crystal one she’d inherited from her grandmother. She set about trimming the stems and arranging the blooms in the vase.

“I know you like tulips,” James said, running a metal finger along the curving edge of one rose petal, “but I got you these on our first date, so…”

The blush burned up her throat to her cheeks, intensifying when he glanced at her. No other partner (that she could remember) had ever been so thoughtful. Granted, she was doing a lot of comparison between James and Ian, whose idea of romance involved fish and chips and going to this one rundown pub to watch soccer, but still. She moved the vase over to the coffee table and cleared her throat. “So, um. Thought I was going to meet you downstairs?”

“Change of plans.” He did that ridiculously sexy thing where he peered up at her from beneath his lashes. Sneaky bastard. “If you’re up for it?”

“That sounds like a challenge, James.” She still linked her arm in his when he offered it, and let him lead her out of the apartment and toward the elevator.

“The real challenge would be trying to recreate our first date.” The elevator doors slid shut behind them. “Roof please, Jarvis.”

“Of course, Sergeant,” Jarvis said. The elevator began its smooth glide upward.

“Why’d you change plans?” Darcy asked, doing her best to feign innocence. It was far too easy and much too fun to rile up James Barnes. “Too over the top to do again? Afraid you couldn’t live up to the hype? Jane told me our first date was _and I quote_ 'epic.'”

James pulled her toward him till they were hip to hip, his hands resting on her waist. The elevator pinged open, and he guided her backwards out onto the roof. “How would you even know if I didn’t?”

“Did you just sass an amnesiac?” she asked.

“Depends.” His grip on her hips tightened. One hand was warm, the other cool, both found the sliver of skin where her shirt had hitched up. His thumbs made small circles at the nip of her waist. “Did you like it?”

She remembered this. The same words, the same heady rush of want, but a different day. An elevator? A frenzied kiss?

And then the wisp of a thought was gone.

She blinked, struggling to put her thoughts back in order, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Sassy James? I like.”

James smirked. “Noted.”

She turned away to calm the rapid beating of her heart. That had felt an awful lot like a memory, but she didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up – James’ or _hers._

The rooftop wasn’t the average boring expanse of concrete and some tall pole for King Kong to do his thing on found on most skyscrapers. This was _Tony Stark’s_ skyscraper, and that called for something more. A curving metal awning shaded a raised fire pit, which was surrounded by plush sofas made for lounging away summer nights. A state-of-the art grill sat off to one side, and an old fashioned Coke machine, the kind that distributed chilled glass bottles of soda, stood next to it. A tray loaded with neatly wrapped sandwiches, a massive bowl loaded with fruit, and another brimming with chips sat on the far end of the sofa.

James had sidled up to her as she took in Tony’s extravagance and the sun setting against the skyline. He was near enough that his breath ghosted along her cheek, making the hair pulled loose from behind her ear dance.

“So-” he slipped one hand into her back pocket and retrieved her iPhone, fingers lingering far more than was necessary “-our first date wound up being sabotaged by Tony, but, I think that if we’d been able to, it would have gone something more like this.”

He flicked through the selection of music until he found what he was looking for, and tucked the phone into a dock with speakers. Horns and strings layered together before a honeyed voice joined in.

 

 _I, I'm so in love with you_  
_Whatever you want to do is all right with me_  
_'Cause you make me feel so brand new_  
_And I want to spend my life with you_

 

Darcy rolled her eyes as she turned to face him. “Subtle, Barnes,” she said as the song played on.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and took her hand, dancing her in place. “Sam helped me pick it out. ‘Sides. Felt appropriate. Both the words and the fact that you shamelessly flirted with me via song.”

“I did?”

“Doll, you walked around humming Mr. Roboto whenever we were in the same room together, and Nat busted my balls when she caught me doing the same because you got it stuck in my head.”

“Does this mean you’re shamelessly flirting with me right now?” she asked, a coy smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

James spun her out and tugged her back, gripping her tighter upon her return. “Might be.”

She hummed contentedly, again waiting for that feeling of strangeness over James knowing her so intimately when she couldn’t remember him, but it never came. Instead she let herself relax in his arms as they swayed in the deepening twilight. She laid her head against his chest, relishing the feel of his heartbeat beneath her cheek, steady and reassuring. “What will you do? If I don’t remember?”

For a long time, he didn’t speak. The music played on, the cool evening air rushed over the rooftop terrace. “Well, I can’t lie – if nothing came back, it’d be hard. Devastating, really. But, if you’ll have me, I’d stay. Make new memories with you. Live my life with you. You’re still Darcy, and that’s all that matters.”

Darcy pulled away to look up at him. The breeze ruffled his hair, scattering strands over his face as he stared down at her, blue eyes earnest. When she looked at him, she didn’t feel overwhelmed by the situation, or scared, or any of the things she thought she should feel. She only felt safe. Content. Happy.

So she kissed him.

She stretched up on her toes and slid a hand around the back of his neck. The kiss started as a gentle brush of lips, but then she opened her mouth, encouraging him to do the same. in no time, their kissing became urgent, teeth nipping, tongue searching. He sucked her bottom lip, teeth dragging across it before he let it go.

The sofa sat just a few feet away and Darcy pushed James toward it, kissing him all the while. Hands slid up shirts and mouths met skin. James kissed and nipped his way down her throat, and she stretched up on her toes to give him better access. When he figured out what she wanted, he slipped his arms beneath her thighs and guided her legs around his waist. The backs of his knees hit the couch and he fell onto the seat with a small, “Oof,” and Darcy straddling his lap.

She threaded her fingers through his hair as he worked his way down her neck, his mouth hunting for the skin just below the neckline of her shirt. His hands slid from thighs to waist to ribs, stopping there as though he was unsure. Confused as to what exactly he was waiting for, Darcy took matters into her own hands and whipped off her shirt.

His eyebrows shot upward, questioning.

“Barnes, I might not remember our history, but I do know that I want this, right now. I’m not going to regret it. You have my _enthusiastic_ consent. Now, the next step in making things clearer is me putting your hands on my tits. Is that really going to be necessary, or are you the ladies' man I read about in college?”

A slow, sly smile lit up his face. “No, ma’am.”

His fingers slid up the curve of her breasts, thumbing at her nipples below the fabric. She arched back, breasts thrust into James’ open hands. He slid his hands around her ribs and had the bra unhooked in seconds, and it joined her shirt on the ground. His fingers traced the line of her throat, her shoulder, the curve of one breast as she fumbled at the buttons on his shirt. When his chest was as bare as hers, she collapsed on top of him to kiss him again.

Stubble prickled at her fingers as she held James in place for a long, lazy kiss. He only touched her with his fingertips –gentle touches over her hips and down the length of her spine - like he learning her curves for the first time. They swooped along the underside of her breasts, circling up to tease at her nipples. James lowered his mouth to one of them, drawing lazy circles around it with his tongue, before laying her down across the sofa. Her hands immediately went to his jeans, flicking open the button and baring him in seconds. He hummed as she took his erection in her hand, the vibrations against her nipple making her buck against him. When she didn’t let go, her fingers stroking along the velvet length of him over and over, he pulled away from her to strip her jeans off her legs.

Need. She needed to hear James’ breath gone ragged with exertion. She needed to feel his mouth on her skin. And most importantly, she needed him inside of her. Her folds were already slick with want, and when she muttered, "Fuck me, please," he slid in easily.

The only sounds were the wind rushing over the open space around them, the distant sounds of traffic below, and their breathing. James reared back on his knees, lowering a hand between them to tap at her clit. A strangled little groan slipped from her mouth and James doubled his efforts, fingers and hips moving faster.

The trembling low in her body grew until she seemed to vibrate all over, until it coiled tight inside her then exploded. Her back arched and the change in angle had James’ rhythm stuttering. He toppled over the edge seconds later, lowering himself onto her gently.

They tangled themselves together as they came down. Fingers twisted, legs hooked around each other, arms pulled each other closer.

It was perfect.

The moon broke free from the clouds, and they fell asleep beneath its silver glow.

 

~*~

 

Darcy woke the next morning to sunshine on her cheeks and a whole lot of super soldier tangled up around her limbs. The night had been mild and there had been a chest of blankets on the terrace, so when Bucky had suggested they just sleep up there, she had agreed. But now wherever they touched was sticky with sweat and she was so going to weasel breakfast out of Bucky and-

Bucky. Her mind had chosen Bucky and not James, which she’d been calling him ever since the incident. Bucky felt like the name meant for his friends and lover, not her, a girl who couldn’t remember him beyond her history textbooks. But now…

She stared down at the tousle-haired man whose head rested on her shoulder. She knew him. She _knew_ him. She’d mapped every curve of his arms and often made him laugh in five seconds or less and could finish his sentences better than Steve sometimes.

“Bucky!” she said, tapping frantically at his shoulder.

He was up in a flash, flinging the blanket down to cover her as he stood. He crouched in front of the sofa, gaze pinging back and forth over the roof, looking for the source of trouble. He also happened to be stark naked. Laughter bubbled up through the tears as Darcy reached out toward him.

“Hey,” she said, fingers grazing his forearm so as not to startle him, “sorry, I could have done that better.”

Convinced there were no aliens about to drop from the skies or battalions of enemy soldiers about to storm the roof, Bucky finally turned his gaze to Darcy. “Doll,” he said, falling onto the cushions beside her, “what’s the matter?” He rubbed his thumb over her cheek, taking a few of the tears away with it.

Darcy sniffled as Bucky cradled her face in his hands. “I _remember_.”

The words were so innocuous – remember what, exactly? What they had for dinner? Sexing it up on the terrace? – it took him a second to fully register what she’d said. But when he realized exactly what her words meant, his whole face lit up. She reached up to cover his hands with her own, gripping him tight, not wanting to let him go.

“You remember?”

She nodded, and then he was kissing her. It was frantic, messy, teeth clacking and accidental nips. It was clumsy and junior high kids could probably kiss with more finesse. But it was exactly what she wanted. Her heart was swollen with a bubbly mix of love and surety.

God, and Bucky, he’d been a rock. She wasn’t sure if she’d have managed it without him. Not that she didn’t think she would never have gotten her memories back, but more that Jane and Steve and Tony would have driven her batshit insane. But Bucky hadn't treated her like she was broken, he'd been honest and supportive, and just fucking _there_ for her when she'd needed him most. 

Darcy pulled away, lungs burning for air, and rested her forehead against his. They twined their fingers in each other’s hair, anchoring themselves together.

“Hey,” she said again, this time much more softly.

“Hey,” Bucky said in return. 

His eyes had that happy glaze to them, a look she would never get enough of. 

“Wanna get married?” Darcy asked.

Darcy could see the moment the words sunk in. The way his eyes went wide with shock. The way his chest stilled when his breath hitched in his throat. The slow start of a grin.

“That what you want?”

She bit her lip to keep from breaking into a silly smile. “Yeah, you big lug.” Then she remembered the song he’d played for her the night before, when they’d danced in a do-over of their first date. “Let’s stay together. Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took forever to get this up! Life (including but not limited to - a broken tooth, kid stuff, work stuff, novel stuff, and family stuff) got in the way.

**Author's Note:**

> Please bear with me on the medical science here. I went to the Wikipedia School of Medicine.
> 
> Also, in my head, the timeline for the Pop Culture 'verse is something like Bucky finds Steve in 2016, takes a year to get his shit together, and has been dating Darcy for about 7-8 months at this point.


End file.
